


Roadside Assistance

by DowagerEmpress



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Car problems, Fluff, Food, Lawyer, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mild Homophobic Language, One Shot, Steve is a good guy, chef
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16069580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DowagerEmpress/pseuds/DowagerEmpress
Summary: Bucky has been having a Week. It seems like he just can't catch a break. It all culminates when his car breaks down on the highway while en-route to a very important meeting.Lucky for him, a handsome stranger on a motorcycle pulls over to offer him a hand.Maybe Bucky's luck is finally turning around.





	Roadside Assistance

“Fuck, fuck, double fuck, and tits to boot!” Bucky cried, banging his head against the steering wheel.

This couldn’t be happening. Not today. 

He glared angrily at the smoke billowing out from under the hood of the car. This was just perfect. Not only was his car doing its best attempts at impersonating a fog machine, but it had decided to do it on the goddamn freeway. And he was late. For a really important interview.

Bucky had dreamed of getting this interview for years. Ever since he’d enrolled in culinary school. He was interviewing with The Tony Stark, New York restaurateur extraordinaire. He owned twenty of the most successful restaurants in New York, not to mention numerous others across the country. If you could get a job with him, your career was basically guaranteed

But now Bucky’s career was going up in smoke along with his car. He was never going to get out of the hell hole he was in now. He’d be working at Azzano for the rest of his life, having to deal with that smug asshole Alexander Pierce and his neanderthal of a front-of-house manager Brock.

It’s not like the restaurant was any good. He honestly didn’t know how the place had stayed in business this long. The wait staff didn’t know what they were doing, Brock couldn’t keep track of the books to save his life, and honestly the décor of the place was depressing if you asked Bucky. Yeah, the food was amazing, if Bucky did say so himself. At least it was when it got to the table while it was still hot. He privately thought the only thing keeping them open was that five star review from the New York Times. How Pierce had managed to get his shit together for that Bucky will never know.

Now, as Bucky stood by the side of the road watching cars zoom by, he tried not to start weeping. This was just the last in a long list of things that had gone horribly wrong this week. He felt like the universe was out to get him. Like it was trying to tell him that happiness just wasn’t for him.

On Monday, his red shirt had somehow gotten thrown in the wash with his chef coats, dyeing them all pink. It’s not that Bucky didn’t like pink, but he could’ve dealt without all the creepy and offensive jokes Brock made about it.

Tuesday hadn’t been much better. He’d forgotten his coat at home, which wouldn’t have been so bad if halfway through his walk to work, the skies hadn’t decided to unleash the wrath of Poseidon on his head. Then when he’d finally gotten home and dried off, he’d been subjected to a thrilling drunk dial from his ex who was looking for a blowjob and someone to cover his rent.

Which led to Wednesday. The highlight of his week. The day some snooty old white lady had sent her dish back five times even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with it, and when Bucky had come out to see what was wrong, she’d taken one look at him from his messy bun to his tattoo covered forearms, to the pink chef’s jacket and told him that she “knew something was off,” and that she “didn’t want some alt-freak fag” making her food. She’d scooped up her Chihuahua that hadn’t stopped barking since she’d walked in, and stormed out of the restaurant.

Finally, finally, Thursday had come. The day he’d been looking forward to. The day that had kept him from spiralling into a pool of misery. The day that had made throwing himself of the Brooklyn Bridge his plan B. He was having that interview. He was gonna go in there and wow Mr. Stark despite the pink jacket, get offered the job – which paid considerably more – and finally leave Azzano and Pierce behind. He’d be able to move out of the shoebox apartment he currently rented. It was all up from here.

_ Boy what a chump I was _ , Bucky thought.

To make matters even worse than they already were, Bucky’s phone was dead. He couldn’t even call for help. Looking to the sky he begged, just this once, for someone up there to have mercy on him, then he turned to the road and tried desperately to flag someone down.

Unfortunately for Bucky, this was New York. Everyone was either too busy, too suspicious, or just didn’t give enough of a fuck to pull over. Eventually he had to come to grips with the fact that no one was going to stop to help him. 

He sat down placing his back against the cool metal of the car and his head between his knees. A strangled wail of frustration bubbled up from deep within his gut. He started pounding his fists and feet against the ground. He knew he was acting like a child, and that he must look like a lunatic, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Eventually his tantrum subsided into full-body tremors as he let the tears finally come.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but it was long enough that the biting autumn wind had chilled him to the bone. His body now shook from the cold as much as from the tears.

The sudden machine gun revving of a motorcycle shocked Bucky from his thoughts. He followed the path of the motorcyclist as he sped by. He was surprised when he saw the bike pull off to the side. The biker turned around and drove slowly up to park just ahead of Bucky’s car.

“Hey!” the man called, dismounting from the bike. “Having some car trouble?” The man’s voice was muffled slightly by the helmet, which he took off as he approached.

Bucky squinted up at the man from his seated position. The sun hung low in the morning sky, casting a halo around the man’s honey blonde hair. He smiled down at Bucky, a friendly and warm gesture, and offered him a hand to get up.

Bucky grasped the man’s arm and hauled himself to his feet. Now that he got a better look at the man, Bucky was a little stunned. The man was incredibly attractive, but in an approachable way. He had a kind, open face, with a jawline that could cut glass, or at least that’s the impression the beard gave. He also couldn’t help noticing the way his bicep had flexed as he’d helped Bucky up. Bucky was ultimately came to the conclusion that the man looked like a really cool kindergarten teacher.

The biker’s expression changed to one of concern when he noticed the tear tracks running down Bucky’s face. “Are you okay?” he asked, a serious note to his voice, and a frown creasing his forehead.

“Yeah,” Bucky sniffled, “It just hasn’t been the best week.” He laughed, but there was no mirth in it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the man asked.

“You don’t know anything about cars, do you?” Bucky inquired, a bit of hope in his voice.

“Only enough to change a tire,” the man laughed. “Looks like you might need a little more than that though.”

Bucky grimaced.

“Have you called for a tow?”

“Can’t. Stupid phone fucking died on me,” Bucky muttered angrily.

“You can use mine,” the man said, going over to his bike and digging a phone out of one of the saddlebags and handing it to Bucky.

Bucky took the phone gratefully. He went and got inside the car, fishing through his glove compartment for his roadside assistance card. The phone call was brief, he gave the woman on the other end of the line all car’s information and she informed him that it would be at least a ninety minute wait.

Frustrated Bucky climbed back out of the car. He returned the phone to the man, turned around and promptly kicked his car. “FUCK!” he yelled.

“What’s the matter?” the man asked, even more worried now.

“It’ll be and hour and a half before anyone gets here,” Bucky cried angrily. “Normally I’d be whatever about it, but not today. This car is costing me my fucking future.” There was a note of panic in Bucky’s voice now. He was getting more worked up and he could feel a panic attack coming on.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man said, grasping Bucky by the shoulders to keep him from his frantic pacing. “Just breathe. That’s it – in and out, in and out.” The man exaggerated his breathing until Bucky finally joined him, matching the breaths. 

It did manage to calm Bucky down. His shoulders crept down from where they’d taken up residence next to his ears. Once his breathing was evened, the man looked at Bucky, considering.

“Do you want to talk about it? I know from my own experience that bottling things up never goes well. Trust me.” His eyes glazed over a little at that, as though he was remembering something he’d rather have ignored.

“You don’t want to hear about my problems. I’m just some guy you found on the side of the road,” Bucky huffed.

“Sure I do, if it’ll help,” the man shot right back. “Besides, sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”

“My ma always warned me not to talk to strangers,” Bucky deflected.

The man held out his hand. “Steve Rogers. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Bucky sighed and took the hand. “James Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky,” he replied. Steve raised an eyebrow at ‘Bucky’ but didn’t comment.

That’s how Bucky found himself standing on the side of the freeway, telling a complete stranger about his horrendous week.

When he was done, Steve looked at him and grimaced. “Jeez, who did you piss off to get such rotten luck this week?”

“I dunno, but I have a few choice words for them,” Bucky laughed. It felt good to laugh. It had felt good to tell Steve about his shit luck. He’d been right. Bucky felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He wasn’t happy, per se, but he was no longer wallowing in misery with no hope in sight.

Suddenly, Steve’s phone rang, a high chiming sound cutting through the peace of the moment. He glanced down at the screen.

“Oh shit, I gotta take this. Gimme just a sec.” He hit the answer button and went to lean against his bike. Bucky managed to hear, “This is Steve Rog– oh, yeah…” before he moved far enough away that the sound was drowned out by the steady roar of passing traffic.

After a few minutes, Steve returned from his phone call. “Sorry about that. Looks like my friend was having a bit of an issue, but I think I’ve helped him work it all out.”

“You’re just putting fires out all over the place today, aren’t you?” Bucky laughed.

“Well, what can I say? That’s pretty much my job.” He shrugged.

“Fireman?” Bucky asked.

“God no!” Steve exclaimed. “No way I have what it takes to run into burning buildings. I ain’t no hero.”

“Well you’ve been my hero today,” Bucky said without thinking. He blushed when he realized what he’d said. “So, what do you do then?” he added quickly, hoping to breeze by that.

Mercifully, Steve rolled with it. “I’m a lawyer. Mostly business and what my partners refer to as ‘High Profile Clients’,” he rolled his eyes. Bucky smiled at the fact that he’d actually used air quotes. “When I get the chance though, I volunteer my services with legal aid.”

“And you still have time to stop for poor suckers on the side of the road?” Bucky asked incredulously.

Steve just shrugged. “Perks of being one of the partners. Besides, I don’t actually have too much on my plate right now.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Bucky chuckled, “but I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Thank you. Seriously,” he added when it looked like Steve was going to protest. “You really saved me. Not just with the car, but you pulled me out of my downward spiral. Sure I’m not gonna get my dream job, but that doesn’t mean I’m trapped at Azzano for the rest of my life.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help. Trust me, I know what it’s like to feel trapped with nowhere to go.” Steve clasped his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “And never say never. I’d still go to the interview if I were you. Explain what happened and see if you can reschedule. What’s the worst that Tony Stark can do? Tell you ‘no’? So you find somewhere else. Simple as that.”

“Well when you put it like that…” Bucky grinned.

“Wait,” Steve said as though he was just figuring something out. “You work at Azzano?” he turned fully face Bucky.

“Yeah?” Bucky responded a little confused. “I’m the head chef there. Why?”

“You’re right. That place is awful! But the food is incredible,” Steve quickly added when Bucky frowned. “My firm has taken clients there before. The service was awful, but we kept going back because the food was so good. Why are you still there? I’m sure you’d be able to get a job anywhere with your ability.”

“I dunno,” Bucky looked away, self-conscious. “I guess I just never had the confidence. I’ve been there so long and seen how awful it was, I started believing that I was just as awful even if deep down I knew I wasn’t.”

“So what made you apply for this job with Tony Stark?” Steve pressed.

“It’s my dream. His restaurants are incredible. Even if I’m not good enough, I had to give it a shot.”

“Now I don’t know anything about the restaurant business exactly,” Steve said, “but it seems to me that a man as prolific as Tony Stark wouldn’t just give you an interview if he didn’t think you had something. Especially knowing where you work. You think Tony hasn’t eaten at Azzano before? Don’t think he knows his competition? Please. I’m sure if he’s giving you this shot it’s because he knows you’re good, and wants to see what you can do when you’re not working handicapped by terrible support staff.”

“You know,” Bucky said wryly, “if this whole law thing goes belly up, you’d make a great motivational speaker.”

Steve laughed. It was a deep, full-bodied sound that caused him to double-over clutching his sides. When he’d finished, he wiped a tear from his eye. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he breathed.

“I didn’t think it was that funny,” Bucky replied through his own laughter.

They were still smiling stupidly at each other two minutes later when the tow truck finally showed up. The guy got Bucky’ car all hitched up. He was about to climb into the cab with the driver when Steve grabbed his elbow.

“Hey listen. You don’t need to go to the garage straight away right?” He looked up at the driver who nodded. “Why don’t I take you to your interview, and then you can go to the garage after? The car will still be there when you’re done.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

“I mean, if you don’t want to… I just thought that you’d want to deal with that first. You know, settle your mind,” Steve continued in a rush.

“Yeah! I mean if that’s okay and you’re cool with it.” Bucky looked between the driver and Steve, both of whom gave affirmative answers. “Ok, just let me grab my knives from the trunk.”

Steve hopped on to his motorcycle while Bucky went to his trunk. When Bucky came over, Steve was shoving his phone back in his saddlebags and fishing out a spare helmet.

“Here, put this on,” he said passing the helmet to Bucky. “I’ll stash your knives in the bags if that’s cool.” 

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Bucky answered handing over his knife kit.

Putting on the helmet, he swung his leg up over the bike and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. The motorcycle revved to life beneath him and once Steve had made sure Bucky was ready, they took off.

Steve’s back was strong and firm underneath him. He could feel the muscles shift with every tiny little movement Steve made as he wove his way through traffic. Bucky enjoyed the sensation. Too soon they were pulling up outside the restaurant and Bucky was forced to dismount from the bike. Steve pulled his knives from the bag and passed them to Bucky.

“Thanks for the lift,” Bucky said. “And for all the other help. I meant what I said earlier.”

“You’re welcome. I really was happy to do it.” Steve smiled at him. The smile was blinding, and Bucky’s heart clenched.

“Well…wish me luck,” Bucky grimaced.

“Good luck! I’m sure you’ll do great,” Steve said. “Oh- and Bucky,” Steve called as Bucky was about to open the door to the restaurant, “I think you look cute in the pink. It really brings out the blue in your eyes.” Before Bucky could respond, Steve had shut the visor on his helmet, revved the engine and taken off down the street.

Bucky stood there blinking as a slight pink dusted his cheeks. Suddenly he was overcome with a great wave of anxiety. He was three hours late for his interview with  _ the _ restaurateur. He took a deep breath, steeled himself and pulled open the door, chanting ‘the worst he can do is say no’ repeatedly in his head.

He walked into the restaurant. It was still under construction, but Bucky could tell it was already going to be beautiful. The dining room was spacious, but the arrangement of the tables and dividers still allowed diners to feel like they were in a private, intimate setting. The finishes were all immaculate, varying shades of red and gold, but interspersed with enough neutrals that it didn’t feel tacky or overdone.

He walked up to the podium where a young man – it looked to Bucky like he couldn’t be more than sixteen – in a well-tailored blue three-piece suit stood with a tablet computer. 

“Um- hello,” Bucky said.

The man looked up and a smile lit his face. “Hello. You must be Chef Barnes,” he said holding out his hand.

“Yes,” Bucky answered shaking the man’s hand.

“I’m Mr. Parker, Mr. Stark’s personal assistant, but you can call me Peter.” He smiled again. “I’m so glad you got our message and were able to push back the interview.”

“What?” Bucky asked confused.

“I know it’s inconvenient, and we really appreciate you adjusting your schedule. Mr. Stark had a few meetings earlier that ran a bit long. If you can call three hours ‘a bit’,” he laughed. 

Bucky just stared at Peter in confusion.

“Oh great, Chef Barnes, you’re right on time,” came a voice from behind Peter, as Tony Stark himself walked out of the back of the restaurant. He too was wearing an immaculate grey three-piece suit and a pair of sunglasses. Bucky didn’t know how he could see indoors with them on, but he couldn’t help but admit that the man looked cool. “Sorry about the time switch, but you know how long winded investors can be,” the man laughed. “Shall we get this thing started? I missed lunch and I’m starving. Let’s see what you can do.” He grabbed Bucky around the shoulders, pulling him to his side as he led him back towards the kitchen. “By the way, I love the jacket. Very Sergeant Pepper’s.”

 

Bucky walked out into the late evening sun in a daze. He couldn’t quite believe he wasn’t dreaming. The whole afternoon had passed by in a blur. The interview had gone amazingly well. He’d cooked a full three-course meal - including his signature duck breast in a cherry-mandarin glaze, complete with roasted brussel sprouts and new potatoes - for Mr. Stark and Peter while they’d asked him questions about his education and his career. He’d tried to talk very tactfully about his time at Azzano before Tony Stark had interrupted him.

“Oh that place is  _ terrible _ . You can say it. Alexander Pierce is a horrendous businessman and a worse human being.”

Bucky had smiled, but he didn’t say anything. He just kept cooking.

After that it had been much easier. Bucky was more relaxed and he talked freely, no longer as concerned with not making a total ass of himself. 

The interview over, Tony had stood up and turned to Peter. “Well... what do you think?” he asked the young man.

“I think I haven’t had anything that good in a long time,” Peter responded.

“We eat in some of  the finest restaurants in the city every day!” Tony gasped in mock offense.

Peter just shrugged. “What can I say?”

“Well, in that case… You heard the boy Sergeant. The job is yours if you want it.” He grinned at Bucky.

“If I want it?” Bucky asked, disbelieving. “It’s been my  _ dream  _ to work in one of your restaurants.”

“Welcome to Dreamland then,” Tony laughed. “When can you start? We’ll need to start preparing menus as soon as possible, and I’m sure you’ll want to get hiring your kitchen staff.”

“Wait, I get to make the menus? And hire the kitchen staff?” Bucky must have been dreaming.

“Who else did you think would be doing it?” Tony asked, looking at Peter as if he couldn’t quite believe what Bucky was asking.

“Well at Azzano, Pierce and Brock always set the menus and hired the staff.”

“No wonder he runs such a dump,” Tony scoffed. “I believe in letting people do what they’re good at. Me? I’m good at business. But cooking? I could burn water. Why would I set the menu and hire the cooks when I have you? You know food. And you know who you want working for you better than I ever could. So, can I take this as a yes?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” Bucky exclaimed. He winced a little at how loud and overeager he sounded. “I can start as soon as you want me.”

“Can you be here Monday?” Tony asked.

“Definitely!”

“Great. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the contract. I look forward to working with you Chef.” They shook hands, and Peter walked Bucky out. Tony apparently wanted be left alone with Bucky’s lemon curd and pound cake.

 

“So I said ‘clearly you’ve never made an omelette’,” Tony was saying to Peter and another man as Bucky walked through the door Monday morning.

The man had his back to Bucky, but he burst out laughing when Tony delivered his punchline.

Bucky’s head whipped towards the sound. He recognized that laugh. The man making it turned around and smiled at Bucky.

“Sergeant Pepper, there you are!” Tony cried, seeing Bucky. “Glad you’re here. We can get all the messy legal bits and pieces out of the way and then we can get to work on you helping  _ me  _ make the most successful restaurant in New York!” He turned and gestured towards his companion. “I’d like you to meet my lawyer- Mr. Steven Rogers.”

Steve turned around and grinned at Bucky, extending a hand. “A pleasure I’m sure.” Bucky raised one eyebrow at the man.

“Yes, very nice to meet you…Steve was it?” Bucky returned the handshake.

“As adorable as this is, let’s all cut the crap. I know, and you both know, that you two have already met. I can’t be bothered to keep up this charade. Oh don’t be embarrassed,” Tony glared at Bucky when he flushed crimson. “We all have bad weeks. I’m just glad Steve happened to stumble upon you.”

“I am too,” Bucky replied furtively meeting Steve’s eyes and glancing away again.

“Great, now that that is settled, let’s get into the fun signing of paperwork.” Tony clapped his hands excitedly walking into the dining room.

As Bucky moved to follow, Steve grabbed his arm. “Hey, I need to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?” Bucky gaped at him.

“I should’ve told you that I worked for Tony. You just seemed so miserable that day and…”

“Steve it’s  _ fine _ . I’m not mad you didn’t tell me. It’s probably better that you didn’t. I would’ve been more nervous. I’m actually just really grateful. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I did it for the people of New York. They deserve to taste your food without having to go to that hell hole of a place you used to work.” Steve winked.

Bucky groaned.

“But I mean...” Steve continued innocently, “if you really wanted to thank me, you could let me take you out. Say, tonight? Seven o’clock?”

Bucky gaped and then grinned. “I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is 100% inspired by something that happened to me this week. I only wish I'd been as lucky as Bucky was. Thanks again to my beta mollus. And another big thanks to anyone who reads this. You're all total babes.


End file.
